


I Cast Away My Human Shape

by nightwings (nauticalallusions)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot of weird fantastical elements, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassination Plot(s), Body Horror, Gaslamp Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Multi, Not a lot but it's definitely present, Past Relationship(s), Royalty, Spirits, Swords
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:42:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29897175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalallusions/pseuds/nightwings
Summary: When Atsumu Jumped two days after their fourteenth birthday, Osamu told himself that he would do anything necessary to get his brother back, even if that something meant becoming a Reaper and searching endlessly for the rest of his life for any hint that Atsumu ever existed at all.However, he doesn’t expect to find himself swept up in a plan to prevent an assassination alongside a Sealed Spirit who seems to never reveal his true motivations, his old childhood friend— who happens to be one of the King’s most trusted Guards and seems to be holding onto his position by nothing more than a thread, and a powerful Warlock who’s being held prisoner. Nor does he expect Akaashi, Suna, and Bokuto to have so many secrets between them, a number of which Osamu feels he’ll never be able to understand.(Or: Osamu is confused, Akaashi is angry, Suna is sad, Bokuto is far too nice, and together they attempt to save the world.)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, Akaashi Keiji/Suna Rintarou, Bokuto Koutarou/Miya Osamu, Bokuto Koutarou/Suna Rintarou, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	I Cast Away My Human Shape

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back in the bokuakasunaosa tag! (I'm sure no one that's here is surprised by this development but it's still exciting, I think.) So this fic is currently listed as having four chapters, but, honestly, the first chapter is the only one that's currently finished. I estimate that it'll end up being around four or five chapters by the time that it's done, though, and I wanted to post what I have written so far. Updates might be a bit inconsistent, but I'm going to try to post chapters as quickly as I can get them written.
> 
> Anyways, this is a strange fic that inserted itself into my mind one day and wouldn't leave me alone until I'd started writing it. A lot of the fantasy elements are things that I've kind of made up on my own, so hopefully they make sense, but I'll be happy to answer any questions or curiosities that anyone has after reading this.
> 
> Also (as a quick side note) the body horror tag on this fic is referring to stitches that have sewn a character's mouth shut. This is the only element of body horror in this fic but it comes up a number of times, so if that at all bothers you then please either proceed with caution or avoid reading this fic.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

When Osamu is fourteen, his brother— his true duplicate in everything except, maybe, how they outwardly expressed their personalities— Jumps.

In many ways, Atsumu’s Jump spells the ruin of their already poor, failing household. Jumpers are a stain on the household that they leave behind, often. The rumors (of the people left behind and the leavers and where the Jumper could have gone to that must be better than the life that they’d had before) spread until there is nothing left to destroy, as they’re oft to do.

Osamu is very familiar with the process, of course.

Still, from the day that Atsumu had Jumped, Osamu had known what he would do, regardless of anything else. At that point in his life, there had only been one option left to him, only one path to pursue that left him the opportunity to follow Atsumu, no matter how unlikely of a chance it would be. 

And, so, when Osamu turns nineteen, he does everything he can to become a Reaper.

The recruitment process for Reapers is long and tedious, Osamu discovers quickly. In his teenage imaginations of becoming a Reaper, he had never once pictured the arduous process that led to him receiving his watch.

And, yet. 

It’s worth it, he tells himself, through all of it. It’s worth it.

For Atsumu, Osamu would do anything.

Even a copious amount of paperwork that, to this day, he’s certain no one has ever read.

Osamu wonders, at times, if the process had been more difficult for him due to his status as former nobility. He’s faced trouble due to his somewhat blackened name, before, despite the sympathy that often follows it.

People are often sympathetic to the ones left behind, it seems. When he had been stripped of his titles, Osamu would have never guessed such a thing.

Still, the trials had been worth it, in the end. 

Osamu had left the Kingdom mere months later, his watch in hand, wearing the warmest overcoat he could find and taking along with him a scarf that had once belonged to his mother and Atsumu’s prized top from their childhood.

The constant traveling is difficult, Osamu finds himself thinking, often. There’s a lack of familiarity in everything around him, the places and the people and the way that they stare at him if they see even a glimpse of his watch. Still, he forges onward, in search of a hint of anything left behind.

It’s all he can do, after all.

His recent journey has found him in a small village, where the man who owns the only restaurant in town directs him to a farm just outside of the village.

“He’s a kind, old man,” the man offers, a rag slung over his shoulder and a hand resting on his hip. “He’ll let you stay the night if you help him out with some of his chores, I’m sure.”

“Thank ya,” Osamu says, although the man has already left for another table. He finishes his food, quietly, as he does most things in his life, and sets a few coppers atop the table. He offers the owner a wave and a bow as he leaves the establishment and sets off in search of the farm.

It’s not particularly difficult to find, although the location is a bit remote. Osamu makes his way to the door and gives a hesitant knock. The man who answers is withered and hunched over. He peers up at Osamu through narrowed eyes and then asks, “Did Kiyoshi send another one of you young people my way?”

Osamu blinks. He has no idea if the restaurant owner’s name is actually Kiyoshi.

“Yes,” he says before they’re silent for too long. “I apologize if you find that you’re unable to house anyone tonight. I’m perfectly willing to help with anything that you might need help with, however.”

The man stares at him for a moment before he shuffles to the side and ushers Osamu into the house. Osamu makes his way inside quickly. They stand there in silence for a bit before the man suddenly speaks again.

“Pardon me for asking, but are you a Reaper, young man?”

Osamu pauses before he offers, “Yes, I am,” and reaches into his jacket pocket to reveal his watch to the man.

The man hums and nods. “I think we can find something for you to help with, then.”

That’s… Well. It’s not exactly comforting. Osamu doesn’t know if this man is actually aware of what Reapers truly do, but he suspects if he does have any knowledge on the subject, then he’ll likely be asked to exorcise a Wandering Spirit before the night is over. It’s never a fun task, but, at the very least, Osamu is good at it.

“Very well,” he says. “Just tell me what you need of me and I’ll ensure that it’s done.”

The man hums quietly and then says, “Sleep well tonight, my boy. All I ask is that tomorrow morning you take care of the Spirit that’s been residing in my barn for several weeks now.”

Osamu sighs and offers his very best smile. 

“Of course,” he says. “I’d be happy to.”

It almost doesn’t feel like a lie.

*

The thing about Wandering Spirits is that they’re difficult to exorcise solely because they no longer remember who they are. For a number of years, the speculation throughout the Kingdom had been that Jumpers became Wandering Spirits but, truly, it’s unlikely. The number of Wandering Spirits would be much higher if they were what Jumpers became. Still, regardless of where they actually come from, Wandering Spirits are a giant pain in the ass. 

Then again, there are few things that Osamu wouldn’t do for a bed to sleep in for a night, honestly. Traveling as much as he does is always difficult, and he often finds himself completely drained only several days into his journeys.

The next morning, Osamu dresses and heads downstairs to find the man wandering around the kitchen. 

“Good morning,” Osamu offers. “If you’d like to show me towards your barn, I can take a look at the state of the Spirit that’s present.”

The man sighs and points at his kitchen table. “Sit down and eat first, my boy. I think that this Spirit might be a difficult one, so I’ll pay you in full for your services.”

Osamu bites back a wince but does as the man says. As he waits for whatever food the man is cooking, he contemplates what sort of Wandering Spirit might have taken residence in this farmer’s barn. The old man seems to think that it will take Osamu a lot of effort to free the Spirit, which is never a good sign. Perhaps the man has seen the Spirit before, though. It could help, if he’s caught a glimpse of it, even.

“Have ya ever seen the Spirit?” Osamu asks as the old man hands him a plate of eggs and a bowl of porridge. There’s even a small handful of berries on the plate. His host is quite generous, it seems. “Has it tried to speak to ya at all?”

The man hums, considering. Osamu begins to eat as he thinks. They’re mostly quiet for a while, the only sound in the room is that of Osamu’s fork scraping against his plate, and then the man coughs.

“I don’t believe that I’ve ever completely seen him,” he offers. “But one evening I saw him standing in the window of the barn. His back was towards me. He seemed angry about something, just by the way he was moving. As for hearing him speak… No. Although sometimes when I go near the barn I hear whispers in my head. I just don’t know what they mean.”

Osamu frowns, setting his fork down. _Great_. _Fucking fantastic._ A fully-fledged apparition. It’s a powerful one then, probably. This is going to be such a pain in the ass.

“Alright. Thank you for the information and for the food.” Osamu stands, clears his throat, and bows politely to the man. “I’ll go over there now and take a look around. Please stay clear of the area until I tell you that it’s been Cleansed.”

The old man nods, bows in return, and offers a quiet, “Thank you for your help, young man.”

The smile on his face feels forced when he replies, “It’s not a problem at all.”

He makes his way out of the house and to the barn fairly quickly. It’s not raining, exactly, but there’s mist in the air, the sky overcast, and Osamu just knows that it’s going to pour later tonight. It’s unfortunate since he’s not sure he’ll be able to find anywhere indoors to stay this evening. Still, he’ll have to make do. He always does.

The barn is old, wood walls splintering and paint peeling. Currently, there are no animals in it, but Osamu suspects that the old man moved them elsewhere on his farm when the Spirit started to cause issues. It was a smart move, probably. Still, it’s eerie— an empty, old barn with nothing but hay and weak, dying lights. The longer he stares in through the door, the more on edge he feels.

Osamu enters the barn and walks around the perimeter. He finds himself stopping in the back left corner of the barn, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He’s being watched. Quickly, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his watch. He opens the intricate lid, noting the way the hands of the watch spin continuously. 

Something is definitely in here with him.

Just as Osamu clears his throat and is about to speak, the presence behind him seems to move closer.

_You’re not the farmer._

Oh shit. Oh, fuck.

Osamu freezes, his voice caught in his throat. Fuck. The Spirit can _speak_. Osamu shoves his free hand into his right pocket, terrified that his shaking will show. 

“I’m not,” he says. “He asked me to come in here and help ya. Do ya… Do ya know yer name?”

_Of course._

That’s also not good, Osamu is sure of it. Wandering Spirits shouldn’t know their own names, much less be a fully-fledged apparition that can speak so clearly. This Spirit is perfectly coherent. Fuck. What is this thing? Is it a Jumper? 

Osamu’s heart leaps into his throat. If the Spirit is a Jumper, then… Then maybe...

“The farmer asked me to come here and help you.” Osamu tries for a calm tone, his voice slow and steady. “He thinks that you might be a bit lost.”

 _Help me?_ _How would you be able to help me?_

Fuck. Okay. Just exorcising this Spirit probably won’t be possible. Not here, at least. This isn’t something that his watch can handle on its own. Still, it’s possible that Osamu can get the Spirit to come with him to a location that he can actually exorcise it from. Maybe at least somewhere he can set up a ritual. If the Spirit is agreeable enough for that, Osamu might even be able to ask it questions. Maybe this Spirit has seen Atsumu.

“I’m just here to guide you,” Osamu says.

_Reaper._

Osamu’s eyes widen. That’s… Did the Spirit recognize him? Or has it just seen a Reaper work before? Most commoners aren’t familiar with the practices of Reapers, besides the fact that they’re capable of exorcising Spirits.

“I… I am.”

 _Get out._ The Spirit’s voice is quiet, first, and then so loud that Osamu has to squeeze his eyes shut. _GET OUT._

“Spirit,” Osamu says. His grip on his watch tightens, the chain pulling taut against his arm. “Calm yerself.”  
 _Leave_.

The word is close enough to his ear that Osamu almost flinches. He bites his lips to the point of bleeding to prevent it. He can’t stand down now. The spirits are never kind to those who fear them.

It’s time to switch tactics, though, clearly. This Spirit won’t take kindly to talk of being exorcised. So, instead, Osamu focuses on the question at the forefront of his mind. Because if this Spirit is actually a Jumper, then… Then maybe...

“I only wish to speak with ya,” Osamu says.

_Begone, Reaper. Your kind doesn’t belong here._

Osamu takes a deep, slow breath. He won’t be frightened away. He won’t be intimidated. Not when he’s finally so close.

“I have to ask ya a question.” Osamu’s knuckles are white around his watch. “Please. I only wish for an honest answer. After that, if ya want, I can leave.”

_You ask too much, Reaper. I owe you nothing._

“I know. Still… I must— please.” Osamu’s hands are shaking. “I have to know.”

For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence. Osamu wonders if the Spirit is gone. He’s lost another chance, then. Just as he’s about to leave the barn, something flickers to the left. Osamu turns, moving towards it.

The watch hands spin, the closer he gets. When he stops, finally, the flicker moves.

The man— Spirit? Apparition?— that stands in front of him is unsettling, Osamu decides, after giving it a cursory glance. The Spirit’s eyes are closed, long eyelashes casting shadows on the pale, translucent pallor of his skin. His head tilts back to the side at an awkward angle. As Osamu takes another step towards the man, he feels his breath catch. The black lines of stitches, barely visible from a distance, become clear along his lips. The line formed of continuous x after x sewn into the Spirit’s lips is familiar enough.

“Yer sealed.” 

The man seems to smile although he isn’t fully capable of it. 

“I am,” he agrees. 

He doesn’t quite speak, exactly. It’s more like his words enter Osamu’s mind and make themselves known.

It’s uncomfortable, actually, to hear a voice that isn’t his own so deep inside him.

“How can I see ya? It shouldn’t be possible.”

“You Reapers never know what your true capabilities are,” the man says. His face looks grim, but Osamu can’t tell if that’s just how he always looks or if it’s due to what he’s saying. Or maybe it’s the stitches. “It’s saddening.”

“I can see ya because I’m a Reaper?” Osamu asks. He glances at the watch again. The hands still spin, aimless and with a frantic sort of pace. “Are ya the cause of this? My watch keeps turning.”

“It is because of your watch that you are capable of seeing me.” The man’s face moves, ever so slightly, the stitches pulling at his lips. Osamu bites down on his lip to still his stomach. There’s something dark and amused all at once in the man’s voice when he speaks again. “Alas, I cannot tell you if I’m the cause of your watch turning. There are different turns for different apparitions, you see. And… Well. Currently, I’m incapable of determining which turn your watch is utilizing.”

“Right.” Osamu stares at the man’s face. 

The process of Sealing is not one that Osamu can say he fully understands. There are a number of details that he has never been privy to, even as a Reaper and a former noble. Still, he is aware of the end result of the process, as many people are. In the end, the soul is sealed away from the body. While the body is unharmed and left in a strange, sleep-like state, the soul is left to merely exist near their body, unable to see and unable to speak.

“How can I hear ya?” Osamu asks.

The man tilts his head forwards. His eyes are still closed. It’s more disturbing the longer Osamu looks at him.

“Your watch is kind,” the man says. “You do not hear me. It translates.”

Osamu is unsure if the words make sense, but he suspects that he’s a bit out of his depth. It is easy to defer, however, to the man’s judgment. He’s clearly more knowledgeable than Osamu has ever been, especially on this particular subject.

After a silence, the man sighs. His form shifts to the side, a strangely stuttered motion where he barely appears to move before he is suddenly in a different place. A flicker, Osamu recalls it being called, once. Fully formed Spirits are capable of flickering, but only if they’re particularly powerful.

That’s. Well. The man is terrifying, certainly.

“What was it you wished to ask of me, Reaper?”

“I’m looking for a Jumper,” Osamu says, doing his best to gather his wits. “He… It would have been a number of years ago that he Jumped. But… His name is Atsumu. I need to find him.”

“A case?” The man asks. There’s movement behind his eyelids as if his eyes are searching for Osamu’s location based on his voice alone. Osamu tries his very best not to think about that for longer than necessary.

Osamu shakes his head and then, realizing that the man can’t see him, says, “No. A personal interest, if ya will.”

“How did you know him?” The man says.

“Atsumu is my brother.”

“A strong bond, then.” Something in the man’s face changes. There’s so little movement that Osamu can’t even tell what was there in the first place, much less what is different about it now. “I apologize. I know little of the locations of Jumpers after they have left us.”

The answer is to be expected, Osamu supposes. He should have known. Of course. Still. He sinks to the floor of the barn, ignoring the hay that pokes into his trousers. The apparition shifts again, as if he somehow sensed Osamu’s movement, and settles in front of him, floating just off of the floor.

“Do not despair, Reaper.”

“Don’t tell me that I’ll find him one day if I keep searching,” Osamu says. “Those are meaningless words.”

The apparition almost smiles. “No,” he says. “I would not speak such folly.”

Osamu clears his throat. He turns his head to stare at the wall, unable to keep looking at the blank, stitch-ridden face of the Sealed Spirit.

“What should I call ya?” Osamu asks eventually, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“You may call me Akaashi.” The spirit’s voice is warm, in his mind. “I thank you for your kindness. It has been… A number of years since last I heard my name.”

At that, Osamu can’t help and look at Akaashi. His face gives little away, but Osamu suspects now that it has more to do with him being Sealed than anything else. Still, there’s a somber line to his brow, something that Osamu can’t draw his eyes away from.

It’s sad, Osamu thinks, but he understands all the same. He wonders if the ache in his chest would fade, one day, if he could just hear Atsumu’s voice call him _Samu_ one more time. The nickname is like a missing limb or a broken piece that used to belong somewhere deep within him, a hole left behind in his chest in its absence. Osamu doesn’t think he can quite explain the feeling, but he suspects that Akaashi already understands. 

Not that Osamu has ever been very good at comforting people.

Still, he tries to provide what comfort he can.

“It’s a pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Akaashi.” Osamu clears his throat and tilts his head back to rest it against the wall. “I hope yer words aren’t meaningless, then.”

Akaashi is silent, for a moment, before he says, “I know of someone.”

“A Jumper?” Osamu can’t help the way his heart leaps into his throat, his pulse thundering. “One that can help me?”

“Not quite,” Akaashi says. Just as Osamu is about to let his head fall back against the wall, Akaashi adds, “I know of someone who can speak to Jumpers.”

Osamu is fairly certain the floor of the barn has started moving. That’s the only thing that can explain the way he sways, leaning so close to Akaashi that he’s practically moved through him.

“That’s not possible,” Osamu says, staring wide-eyed at Akaashi’s blank face. His eyelashes look quite long, from this close. “No one can speak to Jumpers.”

“There is one.” Akaashi’s voice is flat. Osamu wishes he could tell what he’s thinking. “A Warlock.”

Ah. Well, that’s why Osamu’s never heard of this person, then. Warlocks are… Well. They _are_ accepted, in certain circles. And there are always exceptions to every rule, just as the King’s Warlock and others that work for the Kingdom are accepted figures. Still, outside of the Warlocks that are endorsed by the King, most of them aren’t commonly accepted. Power inspires fear, all too often, and Osamu is well aware of the cowardice of others.

Osamu scoffs. Regardless of whether or not he’s heard of this person, there are more problematic matters to what Akaashi has said, which is that Warlocks often shield themselves from identification. Even with his watch, there’s no possible method for Osamu to use to locate this Warlock.

“A Warlock. I would be incapable of locating him. Ya are aware of that, right?” Osamu glances at Akaashi.

Akaashi hums, a light curl of noise. “You would be able to,” he disagrees. “I know where he lives.”

“Ya can’t come with me,” Osamu says, frowning. “Sealed spirits cannot roam the world. Ya must know that.”

“I would be elsewhere if I could not roam the earth,” Akaashi says. He sounds pleased, sort of, in the way that the words tangle through Osamu’s mind. “Do not think me weak, sir. I could not prevent my Sealing, but I would never allow myself to be locked away like that. I’m not helpless, nor am I that pitiful.”

There’s a shift in the words there, something so intense and grim that it hurts Osamu’s head, just a bit. He winces, presses a hand to his forehead, and says, “Okay. If ya say so.”

After a long moment of silence, Akaashi asks, “... What should I call you?”

“Ah.” Osamu blinks and bites back a laugh. “My name is Miya Osamu. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Akaashi flickers and he’s behind Osamu, suddenly, his face turning towards every sound Osamu makes. He’s scarily attentive, for a Spirit without sight.

“Would you like a guide?” Akaashi’s voice enters his head again. Osamu glances at him. His face is directed towards the barn wall, now. Maybe Osamu was quiet for too long. Hesitantly, delicately, he coughs and Akaashi’s head turns in his direction. A chill runs down Osamu’s spine.

The stitches really are quite horrifying to look at.

“I would appreciate yer guidance,” Osamu confirms. 

“Very well then.”

Akaashi flickers again and he’s at the barn door, his face turned ever so slightly so that Osamu can see his back and a side-profile of his face. Osamu wonders, just briefly, what color Akaashi’s eyes are. If one can look past the stitches— which is difficult, of course, but Osamu thinks he might be able to trick his mind into mostly ignoring them, after looking for long enough— it’s clear that Akaashi is handsome. Stunning, even, perhaps. Osamu has never been the imaginative sort, but he tries to picture Akaashi’s eyes open. He finds himself thinking of a large variety of colors that might match his long eyelashes and dark hair. Blue, maybe. Green, perhaps. Or even a warm brown, soft and bright in contrast to Akaashi’s seemingly permanent grimace.

“Are you coming, Reaper?” Akaashi’s voice is light, now. It curls itself pleasantly through Osamu’s mind, like a cooling breeze on the hottest day of summer. It’s comforting, almost.

Osamu rises. He dusts hay off of his trousers and says, “Lead the way, Spirit.”

Akaashi flickers again, but from the way that his voice offers an indistinct noise in Osamu’s mind, Osamu thinks that he might be laughing.

It’s an oddly pleasing thought.

*

Osamu discovers fairly quickly that Akaashi is actually quite easy to travel with. Of course, there’s a nice element to the fact that he doesn’t need extra food or shelter space, because Osamu barely makes it by on his own but, regardless of all of that, Akaashi is surprisingly funny, albeit terrifying.

Akaashi seems to take great joy in popping up at random places in an attempt to give Osamu a heart attack. Osamu feels as if he’s constantly on edge, now, waiting for Akaashi to randomly appear in front of or behind him. Still, Akaashi is a good companion. Osamu thinks that he didn’t quite realize how much he missed being around people until now. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, even if that someone is often angry and not exactly forthcoming with any helpful information.

It’s at about the week mark of the two of them traveling together that Osamu thinks that he’s begun to understand Akaashi’s expressions. Not that they’re actually full expressions, of course. Mostly, Osamu has begun to decipher the creases in the lines of Akaashi’s forehead or the way that Akaashi’s lips twitch with more accuracy. 

It’s strange, honestly, to spend so much of his time around someone so subtle, for once. Atsumu had been… He had been so loud. Always. Osamu had often felt like the one unheard, in their childhood. Osamu’s other childhood friends had been less outspoken than Atsumu, certainly, but Osamu recalls their faces or eyes being fairly emotive, all things considered. Still, he knows that no matter how silent he had felt in Atsumu’s shadow (or even Kita’s or Aran’s), none of it could ever compare to the forced silence that Akaashi must have been experiencing for years, now.

Osamu has also discovered that Akaashi is extremely secretive. He’s tried to ask the Spirit several times now about how he was Sealed or where, exactly, they’re heading, but Akaashi very rarely decides to answer him. It’s a bit annoying, actually, but Osamu tries to be understanding. Akaashi is likely just being cautious, after all.

They’ve been traveling together for two weeks when, one clear morning, Osamu is packing up his bedroll and his slowly dwindling food supply and discovers Akaashi seated by where their fire had been lit last night. His face is directed at the pile of ash and faded embers as if he remembers the angle the sound had come from the night before.

“Are ya alright?” Osamu asks, unable to help himself. It’s unlikely that Akaashi will even answer him truthfully, but, still. It would feel wrong not to ask.

Akaashi hums. “It’s just a bad feeling,” he says. “It’ll go away soon, I’m sure.”

“Are…” Osamu hesitates and then forges onward anyways, “Are you part Warlock, Akaashi? Have ya ever had premonitions before?”

“No,” Akaashi admits. His face turns towards Osamu. Not for the first time, Osamu is struck by how long his eyelashes are. “I have no Warlock blood in me. But I suppose you could say that I have good instincts if you were being generous.”

The honesty is almost more surprising than the actual words that Akaashi says. Osamu would like to think that he’s been kind to Akaashi over the past few weeks, but, still, Akaashi’s unfailing ability to only give answers when he wants to give them has become predictable. Osamu is fairly certain that this is the first genuine answer that Akaashi has ever given him. He wonders often if the secrecy stems from the fact that they barely know each other or if Akaashi has just always been this way.

“Should we trust yer bad feeling, then, since ya normally have good instincts?” Osamu questions.

Akaashi is quiet for a long moment. Eventually, his voice whispers its way through Osamu’s mind.

“Perhaps.”

It’s not exactly comforting, but Osamu shrugs and goes to finish packing up his bag. 

Their travel is fairly easy, today. The sky is clear and the weather is nice. It’s a welcome change from the past few days of dark skies and cold nights. Akaashi is in better spirits as well, apparently, as he spends much of the morning humming to himself, a soft but bright tune that bounces pleasantly through Osamu’s mind. He’s not quite sure if the watch is being kind to Akaashi’s singing, but his voice is quite pretty.

They stop in the first town they pass and Osamu purchases food while Akaashi flickers his way down the main street of town, his face turning every which way to track any noise that he can hear. It’s strange to watch, really, but Akaashi looks softer than normal, his translucent edges a bit less intense. Osamu thinks that he looks happy, but he can’t quite be sure.

The two of them leave town quickly before anyone stops and asks Osamu to help with an exorcism. He has enough money to last for another week or so before he has to go looking for a job. Akaashi seems to get tenser, the further out of town they go. Osamu keeps sending looks in his direction, but it’s hard to keep track of him. He’s flickering constantly, his body barely visible other than the strange flashes of light that accentuate his movements.

“Is it yer bad feeling?” Osamu ventures to say, eventually.

Akaashi stops flickering for long enough to turn his face towards Osamu. His lips are moving, enough that the stitches tug and stretch against the pale skin. Osamu shudders, taking a stumbling step backward that kicks up dirt as he moves.

“It is.”

Just as Osamu is about to ask if they should stop, perhaps, or if Akaashi would feel better if he was elsewhere, for a brief time, there’s a sound from within the tree line of the forest. Osamu turns to look but nothing is visible through the shadows that the trees are casting. The sun has dipped behind clouds too, now, making it difficult to see much of anything from a distance.

“Who goes there?” A voice asks. 

Osamu moves his hand to his lapel, reaching for his watch. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s going to do, but it’s the best defense he has.

He feels Akaashi’s presence behind him, hovering near his back. 

“He’s close,” Akaashi warns, his voice wispy and unyielding in the back of Osamu’s mind. “And armed.”

“I could ask ya the same,” Osamu calls out. He takes a step closer towards the treeline.

There’s a noise, suddenly, and then a figure, blade raised, steps towards him.

Osamu blinks a few times. His hand slips away from the lapel of his jacket.

“Sunarin?” He says, unable to help the way his voice colors with surprise.

Suna stares back at him, his blade lowering until it rests at his side. He blinks several times, his mouth hanging open a bit. 

He looks good, now, Osamu thinks. It’s a strange thought, one that decenters him, and Osamu wonders for a moment if he’s hallucinated or something. It’s been so long, after all, since he’s seen Suna. It’s like looking at a ghost of his past, one that has become a stranger rather than one that’s stayed frozen in time, like Atsumu still is in his mind.

“Samu,” Suna says and Osamu feels a bit like crying.

It’s been a long, long time since anyone called him by that nickname.

Suna stares for a few more seconds, completely still, and then moves, suddenly. Before Osamu can even blink, Suna’s sword is pressed against his neck, the familiar blade sparking blue with energy.

Osamu flinches and says, “Suna. What are ya doing?”

“No one else is supposed to be here,” Suna replies through gritted teeth. He looks so grim, suddenly, like he’s being forced to the gallows. “Except for the person I was told to hunt down. So. Tell me, Osamu. What are you doing here?”

“Ah.” Akaashi’s voice sounds in Osamu’s mind, suddenly curling through his thoughts, and Osamu does his best not to flinch. It would only draw him closer to Suna’s blade, after all, and that’s the last thing he needs right now. “The murderer. What a cruel fate.”

Osamu shoots a glance towards where Akaashi’s spirit flickers, his eyes widening a bit. He can’t bring himself to say anything, because Suna would surely panic if Osamu started speaking to someone he can’t see. Still, Akaashi seems to sense what he’s asking somehow.

“Well, I suppose that he didn’t murder me, really,” Akaashi says. “He _is_ the reason that I’m in this state, however. Which is close enough to death, I suppose.”

Osamu swallows. Right. Okay. So this is all going to go really well, then.

“I don’t know what your mission is, Suna, but I swear to ya that I’m not yer target,” Osamu says. 

Suna narrows his eyes. Osamu is, quite frankly, a bit hurt by his lack of trust. It may have been years since the last time the two of them saw each other but, still, he would have liked to think that Suna would have more faith in him than this.

“Still ruthless.” Akaashi’s voice is quiet inside his head. “He will never listen to you.”

“Your word means little, Osamu,” Suna says. His eyes are dark, over the edge of his blade. Brutally honest, as always, it seems. “As much as I wish that I could simply trust you when you tell me to, it’s never that easy. You know that.”

Osamu sighs. “Suna, I can tell ya why I’m here, but I need to reach into my jacket to get something. Will ya allow me leave to do so without cutting off my arm?”

There is a slight pause. Suna’s blade seems to lower, ever so slightly, before he adjusts his grip and nods.

With a sigh of relief, Osamu reaches for his lapel and pulls out his pocket watch. The chain goes taut as he lifts it in front of his face, showing the design on the front to Suna.

Suna doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, he pulls his sword away from Osamu’s neck and sheathes it. 

“You’re a Reaper now,” Suna says. His jaw is tight. If it were eight years ago, Osamu would have made fun of him for it. Now he simply nods.

“I am,” Osamu says. “Ya shouldn’t be surprised by it, Suna.”

“A fool of a man.” Akaashi’s voice is low and full of a dark sort of laughter. Osamu glances around and finds him flickering in and out of existence over Suna’s shoulder, the stitches stretching as he grinds his teeth.

“What are you looking at?” Suna asks suddenly. He glances over his shoulder, into the blackness of the treeline.

Osamu flinches. His breath is caught in his lungs.

“Nothing,” he says, not entirely convincingly.

Suna’s eyes narrow. Akaashi’s face flickers, gone and then there again, and Osamu is fairly certain that he’s being laughed at.

“Give me your watch, Osamu,” Suna says.

Osamu takes a step back. “Ya know that I could never do that, Suna. Not even for ya.”

Suna rolls his eyes and sighs in that way that had always meant he was impatient. “I’m not asking you to hand it over to me. You don’t even have to unclasp the chain. Just let me hold it so that I can see what you’re looking at, Osamu.”

Osamu glances at Akaashi.

Akaashi, of course, doesn’t react to the look, but his face softens as if he’s smiling. “Please,” he says and then sighs. “What I would give to see his face when he sees me. Still, I suppose hearing him cry is enough.”

Hesitantly, Osamu takes a step closer to Suna and holds out the watch, carefully keeping hold of the chain.

“He’s behind you,” he says as Suna takes the watch.

Suna turns, the watch in his left hand. His eyes lock in on Akaashi’s face and then, suddenly, his sword is back in his right hand.

“You,” he says.

Akaashi laughs. It’s terrifying to hear, actually, since his face doesn’t change at all. Osamu isn’t sure if this blank-faced laughter is more or less terrifying than the way the stitches stretch as Akaashi tries to move his face.

“Hello, Rintarou,” Akaashi says.

Suna flinches at the sound of his voice, stumbling a step back. He almost drops the watch and Osamu finds himself gripping the chain as tightly as he can. The last thing he needs now is for his watch to break.

“How are you here?” Suna says. His voice actually trembles, just a bit. Osamu frowns, unable to help but be concerned. It may have been a number of years since they last saw each other, but Osamu knows that Suna is never emotional like this. “You’re Sealed. A Sealed Spirit shouldn’t be able to walk the world like this.”

“I am not delicate.” Akaashi’s voice is barely more than a whisper, curling at the recesses of Osamu’s mind. He barely holds back a shudder. Suna, on the other hand, actually recoils again, his body jerking back to bump against Osamu’s chest. He elbows Osamu in the side and Osamu grunts, doing his best not to jerk away from the sharp pain.

“I would never dare assume you to be delicate,” Suna says, but his voice is weak. “You still defy all logic.”

Akaashi’s head tilts back, his face drifting towards the dusk sky that he’s incapable of seeing. “There was a Warlock, once upon a time. He taught me a number of tricks. A kind man. Unlike you, Rintarou.”

“I was doing my job.”

“Should I care?” Akaashi says. He’s smiling again, Osamu thinks. He wonders if Akaashi is actually as delighted as he seems to be, now, or if he’s simply forcing himself to be calm. Still, his voice is painfully brittle when he adds, “Death would be kinder than this.”

Suna looks almost as pale as Akaashi is, now.

“I didn’t have a choice. You know I didn’t.”

Akaashi moves his face down so he’s looking at them again. His lips are a flat, unsympathetic line underneath the stitches. “There’s always a choice, Rintarou.”

He’s gone, the next second, flickering in a way that Osamu has become all too familiar with, as of recently.

When he’s sure that Akaashi is gone Suna goes limp, like a marionette with its strings cut. Osamu reaches out a hand to grab his elbow, just to steady him a bit. Suna gives him a short, cursory glance over his shoulder before he sighs, closes his eyes, and slumps to the ground.

“Are ya alright?” Osamu asks, slowly following Suna down to the forest path.

“I was doing my job,” Suna says. His voice is steely, but there’s something in his eyes that’s so haunted. “I had to stop him. I didn’t… I didn’t want this to happen.”

Osamu frowns. He carefully puts his watch back into his jacket and reaches a hand out to pat at Suna’s shoulder. 

“I’m sure ya didn’t want him to have to suffer like this,” Osamu says, after a long moment of considering his words. “But… Suna. He’s the one living like that.”

“He tried to assassinate the King.” Suna’s voice is low, but there are tears pooling in his eyes. He blinks harshly to get rid of them but it doesn’t seem to work completely. Osamu flinches, unsure what to do with himself. “They… They would never have considered a lesser punishment, even if I tried to argue against it. Especially if I had tried to argue against it, perhaps.”

Osamu sighs. “He’s not a bad person,” he tells Suna, unsure of what else to say.

“I know,” Suna agrees. His eyes are dry now, but he’s staring at his hands, his gaze dark. “I think he’s quite a good person, actually.”

That surprises Osamu, honestly. For a moment he’s not sure what to say. Suna has spent his entire life serving the King. It was how he and Osamu met when they were children. They had been somewhat inseparable, the two of them, when they were young. Suna had befriended the Miya twins like it was as easy as breathing and Osamu had followed Suna’s lead like it was the only thing he knew how to do. For a long time, there had even been talk (more than just talk, Osamu is fairly certain, even though his mother had never confirmed it) of a betrothal between the two of them. It was an advantageous match at the time. Suna would have been made nobility and the Miya family would have had better standing with the King, which likely would have saved their house from the financial ruin they’d been steadily approaching.

And then, of course, Atsumu had Jumped.

Still, to hear Suna speak out against the King in such a way is shocking. Osamu can’t recall a time that he’s ever heard Suna say anything bad about the man.

Osamu shoots a glance over his shoulder, but Akaashi isn’t anywhere to be seen. He wonders if Akaashi heard the words at all. Part of him even wonders if Akaashi would want to hear Suna speak kindly of him, given the apparently complicated history between the two of them. Another part of him is almost scared to know the answer.

He takes a moment to just watch Suna, to ensure that he’s alright. He still hasn’t looked away from his hands but at least he doesn’t seem to be panicking, anymore.

“Are ya returning to the Capitol soon?” Osamu asks. “Or will ya be staying out here for longer?”

“I’ll be here,” Suna says. “I can’t return yet.”

Osamu hums and nods. “We should find somewhere to stay for the night, then,” he offers quietly. “There shouldn’t be aggressive wild animals in this forest, so we can find a clearing to set up in if ya have a bedroll with ya.”

Suna stares at him. Osamu can feel the eyes on his back. It’s a feeling he’s become rather accustomed to, someone behind him and looking in his direction, after spending long enough traveling with Akaashi. Still, it’s strange to know that it’s Suna who’s watching him, now. It’s been too long since the last time Osamu even allowed himself to think Suna’s name, much less imagine being around him. 

After a long silence, Suna finally replies, “Sure. Let’s go, then.” 

And so they do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all again for reading this chapter! I hope to see you with another one soon.
> 
> If you want to chat I'm here on [tumblr](https://nauticalallusions.tumblr.com/) and also at [@kejietori](https://twitter.com/kejietori) on twitter. I'm always open to comments and chatting, be it talk about writing (either my fics or if you want my opinion on something of yours) or some wild rants about whichever Haikyuu!! ship or character strikes your fancy.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments (I'll cherish each and every one of them), and I'll try to reply to them all! <3


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